


John Lennon Haunted my Dream. Be careful, he might Haunt yours.

by ObserverFuck



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Rated M cause I swear a lot, The Great Prank of Lennon™, i wish i were joking, this is a dream I had
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:33:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29265093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObserverFuck/pseuds/ObserverFuck
Summary: This is literally just a dream I had that had me laughing tears when I woke up. It's dumb and the timeline makes no sense, but it's pretty fucking weird.Aka:Author comes to in an unfamiliar city. What will they do?
Kudos: 2





	John Lennon Haunted my Dream. Be careful, he might Haunt yours.

**Author's Note:**

> Things to know going into this:
> 
> 1\. The timeline is horrendous.
> 
> 2\. This isn't beta read. Quite possible mistakes ahoy.
> 
> 3\. No, I am probably not a very sane or stable human being.
> 
> Good luck.

Have you ever had a really strange and vivid dream that almost had some sort of sense to it? Any normal person would say yes, but if you're one of those weird people who swears up and down you've never had a dream in your life, then good for you I guess? That seems kind of sucky, but hey, whatever.

Anyways...

Many people will tell you they don't remember their dreams, or that they are simply too weird to explain. Some people have stone-cold reality dreams where everything just makes sense.

The dream I am about to explain is neither.

This dream is single handedly the strangest thing I have ever witnessed. I won't lie. I thought this shit was the funniest thing ever when I woke up. I woke up half wheezing like a cozy little crackhead on the best winter high of their life. It's a trip, dudes, so hold onto your asses.

…

I blinked my eyes a few times, half-aware of the lack of reality around me. I could tell this wasn't real, but I didn't really process that it was a dream at the same time. I scanned the perimeter. There was a small and very shiny white apartment complex in front of me, and it's stairs led up to only one apartment room.  _ A complex with only one room? What kind of weird ass un-reality is this?  _ Well, dream me, I have not the first fucking clue.

I looked down and noticed that I was standing on a sidewalk that was, for some reason, very difficult to look at. It was so bright. You know those kinds of pale concrete, yeah? The sun really makes them unbearable to look at. My eyes were in flames, (an exaggeration of course, but in the dream world you have to specify), so I looked back at the strange building in front of me.

It was then a figure walked across my path, strolling right by me like the most casual thing in the world. A man with long hair, a beard, and glasses…

**_John Lennon_ ** _ just walked by me. _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_ What the fuck? _

Yeah, what the fuck, indeed, dream me.

It only gets weirder from here.

So, I didn't freak out, in fact I was shockingly calm for walking alongside John Lennon. 

Yeah, I decided to see where he was headed since reality was pretty much a joke at that point in time.

I followed John into the entrance of the complex, and I watched as he grinned while making his way up the stairs. 

This motherfucker was scheming…

Dream me was horrified at the idea that he was about to prank some random-ass person, but I laughed anyway and walked outside to see if I could spot the unlucky passerby that was about to experience The Great Prank of Lennon™ as I like to call it.

Sure enough, here comes this random-ass lady with pale skin, long hair that was dark red in color and a winter coat made of some leathery material that wrapped tightly around her. In her gloved hands she carried groceries in a Walmart bag that looked like it was about to bust and unleash the wrath of the canned goods inside of it.

I watched this woman walk into the building, and sure enough, about twenty seconds later…

…

" **_AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"_ **

The loudest high pitched squeal ever just about slaughtered my eardrums, and almost instantly, John Lennon was running out of the building and laughing his ass off like the maniac he was. 

So, what did I do? 

Well, I ran with him, of course! 

'Cause that makes a lot of fucking sense.

Across the street, a group of nasty-ass cops started to chase us, and as I looked to Lennon while sprinting, he yelled in his thick Liverpool accent, "GO! GO! GO!"

So, I did.

And we ran.

We ran down crosswalk after crosswalk in this strange city environment until the police finally gave up on hanging our hydes upon their disgustingly sticky office walls.

Eventually, I slowed to a halt, but John gave me a wave and a chaotic giggle as he kept on running down a whole different street. I waved back with a chuckle of my own and stopped to look at my surroundings.

Once again, I found myself in a strange city area, but it was darker now. Too dark.

I continued to dart my eyes around, looking for some sort of clue as to where I was, but all I could spot was a small noodle shop with neon lights a short distance away. It was a very odd place for a noodle shop of all things to be, but it was something. I walked past it with a plan to find some people who weren't either John Lennon or gross policemen, and I suppose you could say I accomplished my mission.

I came across a car in which two people were sitting at the front discussing something that seemed to be quite amusing, so I went up to them while internally rehearsing the question I wanted to ask. I tapped lightly on the window, and it rolled down to reveal none other than George fucking Harrison.

And in the passenger seat?

Paul fucking McCartney.

Yeah, I'm starting to see a pattern here.

A quick note before continuing: John Lennon appeared in this dream as he appeared on the Abbey Road album cover, but for some reason Paul and George appeared as they did in A Hard Day's Night. Why? I have not the first fucking clue.

Anyways, continuing on;

I looked the man with a bowl cut directly in the eyes and asked this question exactly: "Do you know where the fuck I'm supposed to be going?" He looked at Paul and then back at me. "Jump in the back," he said casually. With this being a dream, I no longer wished to fight whatever hysterical bullshit was about to happen to me, so I jumped in the backseat (right in the middle so I could see up front easily), and we took off driving.

At some point I decided to brilliantly ask, "y'all got any bops?" and that led to Michael Jackson's  _ Black or White  _ blasting throughout George's old-as-fuck convertible.

I too am aware that this timeline makes no sense whatsoever.

We managed to have a nice car ride around the city, eventually stopping outside of an Applebee's. Applebee's… Yes.

I wanted to ask more questions about where in the sweet hell I was, but I settled for jumping out of the vehicle and walking past the two with a nod of thanks. George nodded back, and I turned to open the door of the all too familiar restaurant. At least I could get some good food before the crazy ass dream ends, right?

Wrong.

I sat down at a table where my family was awaiting me. We were all sharing an appetizer, or so I thought, of fries, but then the waiter took them away and everyone started leaving.

What a fucking disappointment. No Applebee's steak? Yeah, I was not a happy camper.

Now, this part is kind of boring, so I’ll spare you details and pointless commentary so that we can get back to the interesting parts.

With my family being gone, I went back outside to see the car still there. I jumped back in figuring they knew where I was going next, and I was right. We ended up at a hotel where we spent a night in a nice room with two beds and a cozy atmosphere. I was given a bed to myself, though I argued to take the floor, but someone else was already on the floor. I can only guess that it was John or Ringo, or possibly even Michael himself considering he exists in this timeline somewhere. So, George and Paul passed out in one bed, I passed out in the second bed, and someone was sleeping on the floor.

The next morning, I woke to find that George was already out and about somewhere, as he was missing from the second bed, so I decided to head out myself. I gently stepped over the lump on the floor whose face was hidden in the blanket he clung to. I could see dark hair sticking out from under the cover, but I couldn’t determine who exactly it was.

The door closed quietly behind me as I made my way out of the room, and eventually out of the building entirely. I walked down the street and passed a shop where, through the glass, I could see Ringo Starr dancing around with someone who appeared to be a good friend to him. I smiled and moved on, wandering about the city until I found none other than the white apartment building where John Lennon was now standing and talking with the lady from the previous day.

Now, I had to stop for a moment. Thinking back to the hotel room I remembered the figure on the floor. It  _ had  _ to be Michael. There is no one else it could have been. My eyes almost teared up thinking about that (I love Michael to pieces), but I quickly composed myself and walked up to the pair chatting on the sidewalk. I actually somewhat fit into the conversation, and I can remember all three of us waving a friendly goodbye before we walked our own separate ways.

The last event that took place in this dream was with those cops I mentioned.

They suddenly decided that I was a target because of yesterday's prank, so I basically got cornered by about 5 cops on the street. Did I make it out? Yes. Yes, I did.

I slipped under one of them and took off running like the devil himself was on my tail. I looped around the city until I saw the noodle shop, and I decided to take refuge there until the cops passed me.

I ran, and I ran.

Then, finally, I shot into the noodle shop.

And then I woke up.

So.

That is the crazy as hell dream that has plagued me for days on end.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Peace and love, and may John Lennon refrain from haunting your dreams the way he haunted mine.

**Author's Note:**

> No, I do not know what John Lennon did to that poor woman's house. It will forever remain a mystery.


End file.
